


Unity

by Ori (magnetium)



Category: True Blood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-23
Updated: 2009-12-23
Packaged: 2017-12-29 05:41:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1001672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetium/pseuds/Ori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stan and Eric clash, and Godric teaches them a very difficult lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unity

**Author's Note:**

> Written to fill a holiday gift request by blissy83. Takes place in an AU, in which Stan did not perish in the explosion at the nest, and the Hotel Carmilla DOES NOT HAVE A ROOF (really just because I can).

Godric appeared sanguine as he sat before them, legs folded under himself like a child, but there was nothing calm about the look in his eyes.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself." His words were specific, meant for one of them, but for once Eric couldn't tell if Godric was talking to him. He glanced at Stan, who stood beside him in a similar position of humility.

If Godric weren't here, and if he wasn't so angry with them that Eric could feel it coming off him in billowing waves, Stan would already be dead. Eric would have torn out his heart and sucked it dry of its blood. He could still feel the murderous rage burning brightly in his stomach.

"Are you?" He looked up and realised Godric _was_ talking to him. He grimaced, then schooled his expression into one of guilty sorrow, nodding slowly.

"Yes, Godric. I'm deeply sorry." Not sorry enough to forget how arrogant and reckless Stan had been while Godric had still been with the Light of Day church, wanting to march right in and start a massacre. Definitely not sorry enough to acknowledge now that Stan may have been the only one thinking clearly. Eric could still smell the smoke in the air, and the scent of charred bodies. Because they hadn't been true to their own nature, hadn't even had the sense to kill those who were trying to kill them, all of them had almost perished. Godric had almost been... Eric clenched his teeth.

"And I am as well, Godric. Now is a time for unity, and I was foolish." Stan spoke while still looking at the ground. Eric wanted to roll his eyes. Stan was impulsive and over-confident, but he knew how to grovel when it was beneficial to him. Eric did not grovel--he was sorry, but only for causing additional distress for his maker. Not for attacking Stan, or for the cold wish inside of him that Godric's right-hand had perished in the explosion.

It had been irresistible, really, from the first moment Stan had sauntered into the hotel room--once they had all re-located to the Carmilla--interrupting some of the first alone time Eric was about to have with his maker in more than 70 years. He had come in, his cowboy hat no less ridiculous for the soot and bits of human tissue covering it, and started in on his familiar refrain: they should have killed them all when they had the chance, and action was needed. _Especially_ now, when it was obvious that showing them mercy wasn't doing any good. Never mind that it was Godric himself who had insisted on no bloodshed, or that bringing this up again now was like throwing cold water in the ancient vampire's face: Stan had no tact, no _respect_ for Godric's station, not even the good sense to shut up when Eric was moving toward him, fangs bared.

It wasn't Stan's place to tell Godric he was wrong, even if Eric himself wished they'd been allowed to rip out the throat of every human in that sanctuary. In a different situation, some strong words and warning posturing may have been enough to shut Stan up and satisfy Eric, but the explosion had shaken both of them, made them agitated, and Eric had simply... gone for him. He had attacked. And he was not sorry for that.

For Stan's part, he had looked almost welcoming of the confrontation, as if he was finally being given the opportunity to kill _something_ and couldn't wait. In retrospect, it seemed as though they had both forgotten Godric was in the room, but Eric knew that somewhere inside of himself the refrain had been running: _watch me, I'll finish him, watch me, I'll still kill for you_.

And then had come the shame of Godric pulling them apart, tossing them to opposite sides of the room like they were kittens being shaken by their scruffs. After so long, Eric had been hoping to show Godric how he had changed over the decades they had been apart: _Look, I've become a suitable companion for you again, so much calmer and more in control now. I'm a business owner, I have a loyal child, I have influence and power... I could be everything Stan is not._ And instead they had become squabbling children.

Now Godric sat on the sofa, looking at once effortlessly calm and impossibly sad, and Eric could feel that beneath it all, he was angry. It was almost a relief, to sense emotion in him--he had had been so distant since they had left the church, so removed from the bond that should have bound him to the vampires around him, in the nest. As if everything was a tiring façade. Eric only wished the emotion wasn't anger that was directed at _him_.

"Stan is correct." Godric was still talking to him; looking only at him, Eric noticed. "This is a time for unity. It will take more than fighting with each other to gain acceptance in the human world."

"Gain acceptance?" Stan spoke up, moving Godric's gaze to him for the first time. "Godric, surely you don't still think that's possible? We spared that entire church and they came at us with _suicide bombers_."

"It is necessary, now more than ever. We must rise above the bloodshed."

"Bloodshed is our nature," muttered Stan, the insincerity of his grovelling beginning to become more apparent. Eric could not imagine what had prompted Godric to choose someone like this as his lieutenant. Stan did not appear able to be truly loyal to anyone besides himself. It was beneath Godric to be served by someone like him.

"You will both be punished," Godric said, as if he hadn't heard Stan's response. Eric tensed. He didn't know how he could possibly feel any worse right now. If it was physical pain Godric wanted in repayment for his poor judgement, he would take it willingly, but the edge in Godric's voice suggested he was about to ask for more than that. "I cannot have my lieutenant and my child at each other's throats. Especially now, when I suspect Eric will be present more often as we deal with this situation." At Godric's words, Eric felt a sharp jolt of hope--of sudden, desperate joy that he tried to stamp down. Godric wanted him to be present more often. Maybe he had missed Eric's companionship, feeling just as bereft of one part of himself as Eric had over these long years.

Then Godric's next decree destroyed the tendril of hope within him. "The two of you must learn how to work together, and it appears we must start at the beginning. You will both demonstrate your loyalty to me--your maker, and your sheriff--with your obedience, even in the face of commands you do not understand or agree with." He paused, letting the implications of that sink in. Then he continued with instructions that caused Eric's stomach to clench in startled disgust. "Eric, you will get on your hands and knees, and allow Stan to penetrate you." His eyes flickered to Stan. "And you will continue until you both reach completion."

Eric felt the peculiarly human sensation of his blood chilling in his veins, despite it already being as cold as possible in his lifeless body. Godric couldn't be serious. His punishments in the past had often taken on a sexual quality, but that was a natural derivation of his relationship with Godric, which on its own had a sexual quality. But to order such a thing and involve someone like _Stan_... it was shocking and painful in a way Eric hadn't anticipated.

Stan's bluster began as soon as Godric's words had sunk in: he would never be able to do such a thing, did not feel that way about Eric, couldn't possibly fuck another man... Godric listened with an unreadable expression, the very antithesis of sympathy.

"I did not ask you to desire him, Stan. Only to bring him, and yourself, to orgasm. If it makes it easier for you, I would suggest concentrating on how to avoid future punishments like this."

"But Godric." Stan moved closer to him, lowering his voice. "You've never made me to do anything like this before. Why can't you sentence me to a week's starvation, or being bound with silver?"

"Because you are adept at enduring both." Godric's gaze turned to Eric. "And Eric requires special considerations to truly understand the error of his ways." His eyes were hard, uncompromising, and Eric understood that he was not joking. He was really asking this of them--not asking, telling. Stan might have a choice, to obey or leave in disgrace, but there was no option for Eric. The viking began to remove his shirt.

******

Stan had taken off his hat, thankfully. Eric would not have been able to endure a punishment like this if he'd kept it on. Even without the hat, he wasn't sure he could do it. It was too much; it seemed a far worse punishment than the crime warranted. If it hadn't been Godric decreeing it, Eric would have felt himself the victim of a sadist, of someone who would thoroughly enjoy watching his pain and embarrassment. But his maker had never commanded anything like this before, had never punished Eric when it wasn't necessary, or any more than he had to.

Eric couldn't figure it out. But he didn't want to think about it right at this moment--right now he wanted to escape from the entire scene, to become a mental vacuum, so none of these memories would remain when it was finished. He stood, naked, in front of Godric, waiting for instructions. He did not turn to look at Stan: he had no desire to see what the cowboy of Area 9 looked like without his clothes on, beyond confirming that the hat had been removed.

"Kneel," Godric told them. He was speaking to them both, but he was still focusing on Eric. Probably trying to sense how unhappy his child was about this, Eric thought, to see whether he was truly feeling punished, or if he had been able to disassociate enough that this would be simply a sex act for him. _No, Godric, this time I would rather be drained than submit to this._ But he would, if for no other reason than he couldn't argue with one of his maker's first real commands to him in nearly a century. He and Stan knelt before the ancient vampire.

Godric held out his wrists, one to each of them. "Drink," he told them.

Eric paused, confused for a moment, before he realised what the older vampire was doing. The reaction Godric's blood always caused in him would surely be the same for Stan, for anyone who swallowed that much power and strength in one brief moment. He was ensuring they could perform the punishment to completion. It seemed practical, but particularly cruel.

With the heaviest sense of dread he'd ever had before being allowed to drink from Godric, Eric took the offered wrist and sank his fangs into it, the rush of blood on his tongue immediate and overwhelming. In an instant he was connected to Godric again, included in his thoughts and emotions, free of any barriers that had risen up between them. And in the next instant he sensed Stan, drinking greedily, moaning low in his throat at the taste, as though he had no dignity at all. Eric pulled away, his lips stained red, and looked up at Godric. _Why are you doing this?_ But Godric simply nodded and waited for Stan to finish.

When Stan had taken his fill, Godric gestured to them. "Eric, on your hands and knees."

As he bent down, Eric was afforded the small satisfaction of a glimpse at Stan's expression, which was verging on utter repulsion. Eric placed his large hands on the carpet, steadying himself, already feeling the blood begin to work in him.

"Godric, do you really th--"

"If you question me again, you will be in need of new employment, Stan." Godric's voice was hard again, with that edge that raised some of the hairs on the back of Eric's neck.

"My apologies, Sheriff." Eric heard Stan moving into position behind him. "Should I just, ah..."

"You will make him ready for you first."

Well, that was something. At least this wouldn't be a dry fuck. Godric moved behind him, giving something to Stan, and a moment later Eric decided he would have taken an entire night of dry, painful sex to avoid having Stan's fingers pushing into him, slipping in despite his resistance, covered in a cold lubricating jelly. Eric dropped his head, eyes closing, working very hard on controlling the muscles in his body and stopping himself from turning around to end Stan, right there on the cream-coloured carpet of Godric's hotel room.

The fingers worked in him, uncertainly at first, then with a stronger rhythm, until Eric had begun to breathe from the exertion of his self-restraint, panting against one arm, his head turned away from Godric. The damnable thing was that a part of him was enjoying it, the part that Godric had taken special care to awaken, not just in Stan, but in Eric, too. He'd made sure that Eric wouldn't simply be able to be passive and block out the sensations. Suddenly Eric realised he had just pushed back against Stan's fingers in a mindless reflex, and he froze, a deep humiliation coursing through him.

"Eric?" Godric had noticed his shock, and for the first time this evening, Eric heard a note of concern in his voice. He thought Stan had hurt him.

Eric shook his head and tried to relax. "I'm fine, Godric."

The moment he'd said it, he wondered why--it looked like Godric didn't intend for this to cause him undue pain, perhaps if he'd just nodded and let Godric think that Stan had been clumsy with his fingers, had torn something without thinking... his mind travelled along that path and he frowned. Then Godric would wait for him to heal and do it himself, most likely, before letting Stan have at him. And that would be a violation he truly could not bear, to have someone like _Stan_ present for the first time Godric touched him in decades. He wouldn't be able to stop himself bucking back against Godric, silently begging for more, arching his back--and if it was a choice between having Stan watch that or letting him fumble around, he would take the inept fingering that the other vampire was currently performing.

After several more agonising minutes, Stan finally took his fingers out. Godric had seated himself back on the sofa and was watching with a neutral, almost disinterested expression. Eric looked up, saw him nod to Stan, and dropped his head again, feeling tenser than he could ever remember being. In silence, he waited for the next intrusion, which would be infinitely worse than the one before it.

A minute passed as he knelt there, strained and anxious. Nothing replaced the fingers. Finally, he looked up again, to see Godric staring at Stan, one eyebrow raised in an expression of displeasure. Eric turned his head and saw Stan in the midst of a struggle, his mouth twisted in disgust.

"Godric, this isn't..." Stan appeared to be searching for the words, while trying very hard not to look at Eric. Then he seemed to give up and simply said, "I don't think I can."

"You may obey me, or you may get dressed and leave." Godric's tone made it clear that "leaving" would be permanent.

There was a difference in Stan's demeanour now, something that hadn't been there before. Eric glanced down and immediately wish he hadn't: Stan was feeling the effects of Godric's blood, at full attention, and he wasn't small. Maybe before, when he'd been using his fingers, Stan hadn't quite been there, and he'd been able to enjoy humiliating Eric without any of his own physical side-effects. Now he could feel the lust coiling in his belly, the ancient blood impossible to resist. Eric could sense that a part of Stan actually wanted to fuck him, and that seemed to be disturbing Stan the most.

Stan was silent for another long minute, obviously involved in some great internal battle. Finally, he nodded and moved closer to Eric. Eric dropped his head immediately, feeling his muscles contract again in anticipation. The image of stiffened flesh lingered in his mind, impervious to his desperate attempts to remove it.

When the penetration finally came, there was a minute of pain, as he struggled to relax and tune out, and then the pain became a terrible kind of pleasure. Every part of him cried out to get away, to attack Stan and stop this, but he stayed, fingers dug into the carpet, biting on the inside of his bicep to keep from making any noises. Then he tasted blood and realised his fangs had extended without him noticing it. It wouldn't do to start losing blood now, so he licked the little trickle until the wound healed. Even though it was from his own veins, he could still detect Godric's unique flavour mixed with it, and the taste of it on his tongue sent a jolt through him. He was aware of being very, very aroused.

Stan groaned in pleasure behind him, and Eric's body swayed forward as the cowboy thrust hard. Stan had put his hands on Eric's hips and seemed to be losing himself in the rhythm of their sex act. Maybe he would finish soon and be allowed to leave, and Eric could climax privately, with Godric. Then, as if hearing Eric's thoughts, Godric issued another demand: "Stan, reach around and stroke Eric. You will not come until he does."

Eric grimaced and closed his eyes, his entire being engaged in a silent rebellion against the clumsy hand that reached forward and encircled him, jerking him in rough, off-rhythm movements. He wanted to be sick, to vomit out the way Stan's hand brought him closer to climax. Instead he felt himself thrusting into it, meeting Stan's hips with his backside, growling low in his throat. There was too much input, too much sensation, and he couldn't decide whether he was growling in anger or pleasure.

Eventually he was at the edge, Stan's overly-forceful gyrations behind him and absent stroking in front of him bringing him to the brink of the most unwelcome orgasm he would ever have. He clenched his hands into fists, ready for it, ready for this whole thing to be over... and nothing happened. He shook his head, eyes still closed, and tried to let go, to let it wash over him... but still nothing.

"Come, damn you," Stan rasped, obviously fighting to hold back himself.

"I'm trying," Eric answered hoarsely. He'd never found himself unable to orgasm before, but he'd never been on his hands and knees for the lieutenant of Area 9 before, either. Maybe it was a mental thing: his subconscious refusing to let him lower himself to this last, final level of degradation. He hissed as Stan's hand tightened around him, moving even quicker, full of purpose now. It should have been the last straw before he exploded, but it was only torturous ecstasy, pushing him painfully against whatever was blocking him from climax.

Then Eric looked up at Godric, and saw the ancient vampire's hand, resting casually between his legs, rubbing against the soft khaki of his trousers as he watched them. Suddenly a key turned in a lock, and he cried out as he came, so hard that stars danced in front of his eyes, taunting him for his weakness.

As soon as Eric had begun, Stan followed suit, making loud, outrageous noises that Eric would have sneered at if he hadn't been utterly involved in staying upright, shuddering and tensing. When the stars had disappeared from his vision, he kept his eyes on Godric, feeling an iota of satisfaction that his maker wasn't completely unaffected by the scene. Stan pulled out a moment later, and Eric moved away, trying not to scramble, although at this point he didn't have much dignity left to salvage. When he'd put some distance between himself and Stan, he fell onto his side, legs curling up automatically.

Out of the corner of his vision, he saw Godric stand and walk over to Stan.

"You may go now," he heard the older vampire say. "Reflect on what you have learned here. I expect there will be no more incidents like this."

"Thank you, Godric. There won't be." Stan sounded very subdued. Eric didn't want to think about how his own voice would sound at this moment. He remained where he was, while Stan made rustling noises as he dressed, then he heard the click of the hotel room door shutting. There was silence after Stan was gone, and Eric wondered if Godric had stepped out, too--if he had left Eric to wallow in his humiliation a while longer.

Quite suddenly, arms encircled him, pulling him up into a sitting position, and strong, small hands stroked his head. He sat stiffly for a minute, then let himself be folded into Godric's embrace. He told himself he shouldn't be this comforted by the same person who had forced him to endure the last hour, but he couldn't quite bring himself to push Godric away. The other vampire's steady, reassuring presence was grounding him, bringing him back to himself, the memory of Stan violating him fading with every stroke of his hair.

"Why?" he heard himself ask, his voice not as strong as he would have liked.

"Because our unity is more important than your pride, and you needed to understand that."

"But... Stan."

"Stan needed the same lesson." Godric pulled back a little, so he could meet Eric's eyes. "You did very well. To be honest, I expected you to fight back more."

Eric looked away. "I've changed." _For you_.

"Yes. I believe we both have." Godric's hand gripped his chin, turning his head back. "We will need to re-learn each other."

There it was, that tendril of hope. Reappearing after a long absence. Eric waited, watching Godric. His maker stood, holding out a hand to him.

"Come. The sun is near."

Eric took the hand and stood, letting Godric lead him into the suite's bedroom. For a moment he stood in the doorway, staring at the bed, then he stepped toward it, sitting on the edge gingerly. There was still a twinge inside as he sat down, the abuse fading but not erased yet. Godric took off his shirt, exposing the tattoos that had haunted Eric's dreams for nearly a century, and pulled Eric back onto the blankets with him. Muscle memory took hold, and Eric automatically slid one leg in between Godric's, and put an arm over him. After a pause, Godric responded, wrapping himself around Eric, creating a perfect mirror of countless nights they'd spent together, sharing a coffin.

Eric felt lips on his, and sudden surge rushed through him-- _yes, this, this, alwaysnow, pleaseneveragain_ \--as he kissed back, lost in the softness of Godric's mouth. He touched his maker carefully, fingers on skin that had been far away for so long, but could never really become foreign. They could both sense that the sun was about to rise, and their movements became languid, dreamlike, as they felt the powerful draw of sleep.


End file.
